


Two Right Feet

by springbreeze



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), The Golden Scheme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25459759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springbreeze/pseuds/springbreeze
Summary: "He will remember all of them turning at once as the last song of the evening started, the closing act to a dreamlike night of joy."At a ball, what else is there to do but dance?Written for The Golden Scheme, a Claude-centric charity zine.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Two Right Feet

Under the soft lights of the chandeliers, the room repurposed for the ball glows golden, washing objects and people alike in its tint and giving the impression that they are within the confines of a giant treasure chest. Or perhaps a music box is more accurate, with the way delicate waltz music floats loftily through the air.

Either way, the effect is almost gaudy, Claude thinks, not that he is one to talk.

Sweeping his cape over his shoulder, Claude continues meandering through the crowd of students, waving airily at the occasional calls of congratulations that follow him but more interested in the platters that line the tables in the back. Heavily spiced roasts, simmering soups, and jewel-like fruits paint a tempting picture for even the pickiest eater and Claude can only imagine the extended effort that the chefs and students on duty have put in to make this banquet possible.

At the table, Ignatz greets him with a wave and one eye still on Raphael, who is some distance away demolishing a generously laden plate. They turn their heads as a long, high sweeping note signals the end of the demure waltz, punctuated by scattered clapping that Claude joins in out of obligation, while Ignatz’s is a good deal more sincere. Just when the applause begins to fade, a much livelier song—familiar to many of the villages of Fódlan—strikes up in a flurry of leaping bows and trilling flutes, rousing a few cheers and a round of far more enthusiastic claps to the bouncing rhythm. Out of the corner of his eye, Claude spots some of the nobles sniff and turn pointedly away at the commoner song that fills the hall with its bright tune.

But whether they like it or not, the monastery does keep some semblance of equity in its teachings, and it’s with amusement Claude notes that the growing crowd of people who have been taken in by the music look a great deal more pleased than any uptight noble. 

Next to him, the tapping of Ignatz’s foot to the beat does not escape Claude’s attention, and the words he uttered to their stoic teacher, once upon a time, flit through his mind and into a spark of inspiration.

_You have to make your own fun in this place, you know?_

Claude feels a wide grin spread across his face in the instant before he grabs Ignatz by the wrist and pulls him towards the ring of people in the center, ignoring the other boy’s surprised yelp from behind as the circle opens up to welcome them warmly.

“Claude, what are you doing?” Ignatz whispers, eyes darting back and forth in an attempt to capture the footwork of the students closest to him, ever studious.

“What does it look like?” Claude replies innocently, hooking his elbow around the other boy’s and swinging them both around in circles as the fiddles sing. “No one ever got to dance by just watching.”

“I can’t dance!”

“Sure you can. All of you and Teach helped me practice for the cup, didn’t you?”

“Not this one!”

Despite Ignatz’s protests, he does an admirable job attempting to and succeeding in keeping up, as Claude expected. Ignatz moves with timid but precise steps, never deviating from the tempo when they clap with the others, and they both obediently match the group’s movements for several seconds before Claude tires of the easy pace and steps a little more quickly, adds an extra spin here and there, all of which contribute to the increasingly flustered expression on Ignatz’s face as he’s forcibly drawn into Claude’s momentum. Claude links his arm around Ignatz’s once more and proceeds to swing them around and around, faster and faster to the crescendo of the music, until Claude can’t contain his laughter and Ignatz is stammering and they’re surely seconds from tumbling over each other when a sudden shadow looms over them.

Raphael sweeps them both off their feet under each arm, his ever-winning grin the only thing not spinning in Claude’s vision after his admittedly reckless stunt. “Hey there, Raphael. Nice save.”

“Raphael!” There is clear relief in Ignatz’s voice as he looks dizzily up at his childhood friend. “Did you need something?”

“You two looked like you were going to get trampled!” Raphael chortles, easing the two of them to the ground while keeping a steady, warm hand on their shoulders. “Kinda reminded me of when I’d spin my sister around at the village festival dances. I’d end up bringing everyone in the circle down with me.”

“Maya scolded you for that,” Ignatz adds breathlessly, adjusting his glasses. “But everyone always laughed it off in the end.” He shoots Claude a wry glance, to which Claude raises his hands in half a shrug of apology. “We went a little fast, but I’ll admit it was more fun than I thought. Thank you, Claude.”

“Don’t mention it. Sometimes all you need is a little push. Or a pull.”

Raphael perks up at the sound of the violins starting a new tune. “It’s the one from our village, Ignatz! Let’s do it! C’mon, Claude, you too. I’ll show ya how I used to spin my sister around!”

“I’ll pass on this one. Have fun!” Claude continues to chuckle as he ducks under Raphael’s reach and waves them off, leaving only Ignatz in Raphael’s clutches, but the bespectacled boy does not seem to mind terribly much as they are swept away by the crowd converging for the new song.

A few more songs later, he finds Leonie watching the dancers contemplatively, head tilted and hand on her chin. “Something on your mind?” Claude asks as he sidles up next to her, following her gaze. “You’re staring pretty hard.”

“Oh, Claude. Nah, just thinking.” Leonie replies with a smile, turning in his direction. “I saw you with Ignatz and Raphael earlier. You three looked like you were having a good time.”

“Just livening the place up a bit. Are you interested too?”

“Dunno, that’s what I was thinking about.” She scrutinizes him for a moment before her expression suddenly brightens in realization. “Hey Claude, you must know some of those fancy noble dances right? Like the kind you’d do during the song now.”

Claude blinks. “Well, I did have some of those fancy noble dances drilled into me when I got to the Riegan household. But I’d say they’re a work in progress.”

“Good enough for me.” Without further ado, Leonie grabs one of his arms and pulls him towards the center, beaming. “Lemme see one of them before the music ends, then.”

He can’t help but laugh at her straightforwardness, and obliges. Leonie picks up the evenly measured steps quickly as they revolve on the spot, following the music’s lazy rhythm, but several minutes later, Leonie is frowning. “I’m not that bad, am I?” he asks in disbelief.

“Nah, I don’t think I’d be able to tell even if you were.” Claude is unsure whether to take her dismissiveness as an insult, but Leonie continues with the furrow in her brow. “Aren’t these fancy noble dances kind of boring? All you do is spin around the same way over and over again.”

“To be honest, they’re not really my favorite either,” Claude admits, and they release each other’s hands at the same time, meet each other’s eyes, and snort. “Nobles, am I right?”

That draws a laugh out of her, and Leonie turns to stride away, waving over her shoulder. “I think I’ll go get something to eat. Tell me when they put a faster song on, maybe we’d have more fun.”

“Yes ma’am,” Claude calls with a mock salute.

He spots Marianne hovering around the doors, looking on the verge of bolting any second, and makes sure to approach her within her line of sight. “How are you doing, Marianne?”

“Claude,” she murmurs, wringing her hands. “It’s a little crowded.”

“Everyone you can think of is out there, after all,” Claude hums. “Except Dorte the horse, I guess. It’s a shame he wasn’t invited.”

“I suppose it is,” Marianne agrees a little mournfully. “I’d like to tell him about the ball later.”

“Well, I’m no Dorte, but if I could have the pleasure of your company for a bit, you might have one more story to tell him later.” Claude extends his hand towards her, motioning to the dance with his other. “We don’t have to go into that crowd. Here would be perfectly fine.”

She looks back and forth between his face and hand several times, eyes wide, but patience is familiar to Claude as he waits, wiggling his fingers invitingly while the music swells to a gentle pitch.

At last, Marianne’s hand slips uncertainly into his, and Claude pulls her close to spin them gently around. Marianne follows after him with hesitant steps, trained but unpracticed memories clearly seeping into her movements, and a comfortable silence falls over them, only the lyrical sound of flutes guiding their routine.

“Are you having fun, Marianne?”

“I think so.” Her answer does not come as hesitantly as it could be.

“Then I’m glad.” Claude grins down at her. “We’ve got Teach leading us, so I’m sure there’ll be no end of fun and excitement for our class from here on out. Look forward to it, alright? I’ll come up with some plans for everyone to have even more fun.” Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a flash of purple striding towards them with all the dignity of a peacock. “...As soon as I deal with our dear Lorenz here.”

“Marianne.” Reaching them, Lorenz bows elegantly to her first, before straightening to only incline his head in Claude’s direction. “And Claude.”

“That’s me,” Claude replies airily, letting Marianne’s hands go with a quick bow even as she looks worriedly between them. But in the next second, Hilda whirls by and is tugging Marianne away by the wrist, chattering excitedly all the while with a wink over her shoulders at the two boys left behind. Lorenz’s eyes flicker after them, but he seems more intent on the chance to put Claude in his place.

“I can’t believe you had the audacity to subject Marianne to such uncouth moves.”

“Well, why don’t you give me a lesson then, Professor Lorenz?” Claude shoots back, allowing a hint of exasperation to creep into his tone as he holds his hands up in defense. “I’m sure a proper noble like yourself knows how to treat a dance partner right.”

He does not expect the sudden, almost crushing grip of Lorenz’s hands closing around his wrists, and Lorenz meets his bewildered gaze with a stiff grimace. On cue with the start of a new tune, Lorenz steers Claude into the motions, obviously intent on taking lead. “If you’re to be Duke and lead the Leicester Alliance,” Lorenz begins loftily as they slide past each other, “As heir to House Gloucester, I can’t have you making a fool of yourself in social etiquette.”

“Nice of you to be so worried about your own image,” Claude sighs, sensing it would be faster to end things by letting Lorenz have his way, and resists the urge to step on Lorenz’s foot. “Are you forgetting who won the White Heron Cup now?”

“That was a basic dance suitable for a school-level ball, no more,” Lorenz sniffs. “Don’t think that it’s indicative of anything in the real world.”

Claude recognizes the current song as one that would play at a more formal celebration in the Alliance, know more familiarly to the upper nobles and with complicated steps that leave both of them slightly breathless by the end. Claude commends himself for not stepping even accidentally on Lorenz’s foot.

“Your footwork is sloppy, but not entirely hopeless,” Lorenz admits reluctantly, reaching for a handkerchief to swipe at his brow. “Put in some practice and you might spare some dignity for yourself.” With those unceremonious words, Lorenz flounces— _flounces_ , away, leaving Claude shaking his head at Lorenz’s retreating back, at the grudging note of respect he had heard in Lorenz’s voice, before heading off in the opposite direction..

He finds Lysithea hovering near the sweets, exactly where he expected her to be, and pretends not to notice the frantic way she whirls her back on them to face him. “What do you want, Claude?”

“Hey, you make it sound like I have ulterior motives.” He places a hand dramatically on his chest, feigning a wounded tone. “This is just a friendly request from one friend to another.” With that, Claude sinks into a deep bow at the waist, winking. “Would you honor me with a dance, Lady Ordelia?”

Surprise flickers across her face and Lysithea purses her lips, clearly swaying at the rare usage of her title but suspicious of his uncharacteristic generosity. Finally, she draws herself up to her full height and places her own hand primly in his offered one. “Alright,” she says imperiously, allowing Claude to lead her towards the other pairs to join them.

Lysithea’s steps are flawless even as Claude shortens his strides without comment as they spin around each other, separate, and draw back together. But as with Ignatz, flawless does not necessarily translate to interesting in his book, and so Claude finds himself taking the opportunity when it arises with Lysithea’s guard down, pulling her up from a dip with more momentum than before. Lysithea squeaks in protest when his next spin lifts her from the ground for a split second, and Claude is forced to hop backwards to avoid the stamp of her foot when she lands.

“Claude!” she hisses, tugging her hands away. “What are you trying to pull? I thought you were taking me seriously for once!”

“I was taking you quite seriously, Lady Ordelia,” Claude replies with his straightest face, but holds it for only a moment before the edges of his mouth turn up. “When you think about it, a dance is pretty close to a battlefield. I thought you’d adapt to it with your usual ease.”

Lysithea glares intensely at him, clearly disbelieving, before storming away not quite inconspicuously back towards the dessert table, and Claude lets her go with an amused sigh.

Hilda is the one who finds him this time and takes him by the hands without so much as a greeting, pulling him without resistance into the upbeat tune that plays now.

“Did you get tired of waiting?” Claude teases, lifting his arm for Hilda to whirl under and around.

“I figured you were just saving the best for last,” Hilda replies with bell-like laughter, the tips of her long hair brushing across his fingertips when they step apart, and then step back together.

At every turn, she matches his movements effortlessly, not a word but the glance of their eyes in passing as Hilda presses her back against his, nimble fingers interlacing his own before her grip whirls them face-to-face again, and he knows it’s her lead he has been following all this time.

“It’s nice to see you smiling for once,” Hilda hums suddenly, clear pink eyes flashing in an expression that is at once both playful and kind, and Claude finds the stark honesty of her words startling.

“I’m always smiling.”

“Sure.”

She leaves it at that, a knowing smile playing on her own lips, and he doesn’t know what to say in response.

* * *

He thinks that in a year, in five years, he will not remember what they were talking about. He will not remember what food he had eaten, the songs that played, and perhaps not even their faces, at least not perfectly.

But Claude thinks he will remember the sincerity of Dimitri’s smile, and sound of Edelgard’s laughter.

He will remember all of them turning at once as the last song of the evening started, the closing act to a dreamlike night of joy.

He will remember the way he looked back and found their hands stretched out to him, waiting, willing.

_Claude, would you like to dance?_

He will remember that he had taken their hands, and in that moment, it had meant everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Golden Scheme](https://twitter.com/ClaudeFanzine), a charity zine dedicated to Claude! Thank you to anyone who purchased the magazine, and I hope you enjoyed every bit of it.
> 
> I actually had to cut down a lot of my final version to fit the zine requirements, but for this upload I've added those back in.
> 
> I forgot it was his birthday when I was uploading, but it's a nice coincidence! Happy birthday Claude, I had a lot of fun.


End file.
